


Four Claw Drive.

by millygal



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Crack, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-13
Updated: 2017-04-13
Packaged: 2018-10-18 10:04:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10614645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/millygal/pseuds/millygal
Summary: That'll teach him to touch stuff he shouldn't. Castiel is officially the scariest furball they've ever met!





	

**Author's Note:**

> Crack, pure unadulterated boredom induced crack. Not beta'd. I wasn't necessarily gonna post this but it's being shared to help cheer up miss jj1564 because she's awesome and deserves the laughs.  
> A/N#2: This was originally going to get posted as a three parter but having finished it and had the ever EVER wonderful jj1564 beta it for me, complete with lolsome comments (BB you rock my world, thank you so much for all your help lately from the spn_j2_bigbang and wincestbigbang to this little bit of crazy!), I thought I'd share the whole thing as one long fic. Any remaining mistakes are all mine!  
> Also, AHAHAHA check out the pic I found to go with this fic (It's at the end). Not tan as I described originally but still - *AMUSED*

"Sammy!"

“Every. _Damned_. **Hunt.** ”

“SAMMY!”

“Dean, stop hollering my bloody name!”

“I’m **so** sorry Mister Master Sneak Thief, but we’ve got a problem.”

“And that would be?!”

Dean hooks two fingers in the back of Sam’s jacket and spins him, bringing him face to whiskers with what can only be described as an extremely ill advised scientific experiment gone hideously wrong.

Where Castiel was stood not five minutes previous is a ratty crumpled cat, complete with miniature trench coat and skewed tie hanging loosely from it’s throat.

Sam peers passed his brother and tilts his head before breaking down into snorts of laughter. “W-w-what happened?!”

Dean shakes his head and steps forward only to rapidly retreat when the thing wearing his best friend’s favourite outfit starts hissing at him and baring it’s teeth. “I got no clue but I’ll give you two to one odds he touched somethin’ he shouldn’t.”

Stepping around Dean, Sam lowers his hand and starts petting the cat, now looking highly un-amused and ready to start ripping strips from anyone who dares to try and touch it. “"He's so _cute_ , can we keep hi - HEY! Back off Catstiel!"

The cat with unnaturally blue eyes whips it’s head round and sinks sharp teeth into the back of Sam’s hand, bringing a yelp from him and a huff of laughter from Dean.

As fast as he chows down on Sam’s juicy pink flesh, Catstiel lets go, only to embed his claws into a denim clad ankle and start climbing.

Scratching his way upwards, making sure to dig his claws in as deep as they’ll go, Catstiel finally comes to rest on Sam’s shoulders.

Whiskers twitching, he stares down the Hunter who’s hopping up and down on the spot, trying to dislodge the smelly feline from his body.

Dean finally stops laughing long enough to hear a distinct little voice coming from the cat, now firmly attached to his brother’s face.

Over the sounds of Sam screeching for release, Catstiel hisses. “Fix me, or else.”

All around the trio lights start flickering to life, and Dean realises they’re inches away from getting themselves arrested, or thrown in the pound. “Come on you two, home, unless you wanna get yourself neutered, Fleabag?”

Catstiel retracts his claws and drops gracefully to the floor, narrowly avoiding being stomped on by steel toe capped boots as Sam scrubs at the fresh weeping wounds covering his neck and face..

They all take off towards the nearest exit when Dean hears a painful yowl coming from behind him. Craning his neck, Dean sees a tiny pair of fairy wings protruding from the cat’s back. “Okay, that’s it, we’re selling you to the National Enquirer.”

“I will crap in your shoes, I swear. Every pair.”

*******************

There’s a musty dank odour permeating every cubic square inch of the Bunker. It makes Dean’s nose twitch and wrinkle as he tries to herd Catstiel back into the bathroom. “Come on, dude, you’re taking the piss now.”

After his third bath of the day, Catstiel has decided he really doesn’t like being half a foot tall and unable to defend himself against giant human morons who think it’s okay to try and drown him on an hourly basis. “I am not above ruining that pretty face, Dean. Back off.”

Sam stands; legs akimbo, back bent, shoulders hunched, arms outstretched in an effort to snatch the cat, now divested of his mini trench coat and covered in a thick layer of frothy bubbles, from the floor every time he zips by. “Catsti - “

The hiss being directed at him tells Sam he’s moments away from having an all over claw-related body piercing. “CaSTiel, please, it’s your own fault.”

The cat housing Castiel’s essence and feeling rather naked without his tiny tan coat, spins and almost loses his footing - not yet used to manoeuvring with claws on the Bunker’s polished floors - and fixes Sam with a purely evil stare. “It was _not_ my fault, this body has urges. Urges I cannot control. You should not have left the spell ingredients out unattended.”

Dean growls and makes a grab for the feline. “And you shouldn’t have ROLLED IN THE DRAGON DUNG. **Again!** Now get over here so I can finish rinsing you off.”

Finally managing to pin Catstiel down, Sam grips him around the middle and aims his squirming legs towards Dean, who just about dodges the wicked sharp claws as he pulls him from Sam’s hands. “Come on stinky, let’s get you all fluffed up and prettiful.”

Dean’s tone of voice sets Catstiel’s fangs on edge, so he twists his neck into an unnatural position and buries them in Dean’s arm. The resultant yelp and rapid descent to the floor, where he neatly and gracefully lands on all fours, is well worth the soap suds slowly crusting into his matted fur. “Smug human.”

Sam tries to sneak up behind Catstiel, only to have his socked foot chewed upon by a clearly fucked off and feral looking feline. “OUCH! Shit, Cas, don’t be a dick!”

Catstiel retracts his teeth long enough to change position and get a better grip on Sam’s leg before sinking them into his ankle, making contact with bone.

Taking advantage of the cat’s attention being fixed on the shredded remains of Sam’s lower leg, Dean grabs a jug full of water from the sideboard, and dumps it on Catstiel’s head.

Catstiel’s howl of indignance coupled with Sam’s huff of annoyance at being saturated from the knees down, force Dean into a bent double pose, laughter echoing around the room, infuriating both cat and human alike.

Admitting defeat and slamming his furry ass onto the soaked tiles, Catstiel spits violently at Dean. “Stop LAUGHING and FIX ME!”

Sam shakes his feet, attempting to rid himself of the unwanted water weight dragging his jeans down, and wags a finger at Catstiel. “If you’d just stop trying to play with everything we put out for the spell, you’d have been a full sized douchebag with normal wings by now!”

Catstiel sneers at Sam and starts chewing on his own whiskers. “I cannot **help** it! It is this damned feline instinct. I am disturbed enough at finding balls of yarn SEXY. I do not _WANT_ to **want** to rub my face in anything with a strong scent. Please, just fix me.”

As Catstiel rants, his fairy wings - complete with cute pink glitter stripes - start to emerge from his still sodden back. There’s a distinct glow emanating from all around the animal now hissing and screeching, and Dean finds himself retreating, rapidly.

“Cas, man, calm down. I dread to think what an Angelic hairball looks like. You’re gonna give yourself kitty heart failure.”

Catstiel makes a concerted effort to lower his blood pressure and heart rate only to hear a loud **click** coming from behind him. Turning slowly, the cat spots the camera in Sam’s hand before he sees the amused smirk curling up the Hunter’s lips.

It’s all Dean can do not to fall over laughing as Catstiel launches himself - wet claggy fur clumping together, claws flicked outwards - towards Sam, who’s now slipping and sliding across the floor, trying to put as much distance as possible between himself and the fucked off cat chasing him..

*************************

A disgruntled looking Catstiel hangs awkwardly in mid-air.

Suspended by invisible strings which are forcing his front legs up at an awkward angle, Catstiel stares accusingly at the Winchesters every time he slowly rotates towards them.

His back legs waggle in a truly ungraceful manner as his tail flicks angrily from side to side, showing just how unimpressed he is with this whole sorry situation. “How much longer?”

Dean bites back a smile and coughs to cover his amusement. “Not much, if you’d just stop interrupting me.”

Sam’s not coping much better with the spectacle of their usually stoic friend in feline form, spinning at a sedate pace four feet from the floor.

He looks like a badly plucked rotisserie chicken.

Every time Castiel turns towards him, Sam has to pinch his nose to stop from chortling and look away, for fear he’ll be clawed to death.

The angry looking scratch marks covering his upper body aren’t even scabbed over yet, Sam doesn’t need to give Catstiel an excuse to add to them.

Absentmindedly rubbing at the wounds on his left arm, Sam schools his features and swallows the laughter on his lips. “Cas, man, if you stopped hissing we’d be able to hear ourselves think. This ritual takes a little more precision than most. Do you want to end up with a permanent full sized set of cat ears?”

Catstiel’s body continues to spin and he knows the second his fuzzy face isn’t in their eye-line the brother’s will be silently laughing their asses off.

Sighing, making his long whiskers twitch, Catstiel speaks through gritted fangs. “Just, fix me.”

Silence descends upon the room as Sam and Dean begin wafting herbs and making undefinable hand gestures.

A moment’s weightlessness lifts Catstiel into a more comfortable position before he feels his bones start to crack and shift.

The sound of a cat being stretched to breaking point makes Dean want to vomit and forces Sam’s hands over his ears.

It’s only as the body of their friend begins to change shape and lose it’s fur covering that the brothers realise their mistake.

It doesn’t take long for the tail and whiskers to retract, or the hair the drop away.

Moments after the spell is complete a fully human shaped Castiel stands in front of Sam and Dean - completely devoid of clothing.

Castiel doesn’t appear to have noticed the oversight and is shaking out his limbs, testing the way they feel now they’re the right length and shape.

He notices the silence coming from the Peanut Gallery and looks up, only to be met with two sets of wide eyes and smirking lips.

“What?”

“Nothin’.”

“No, really, what?”

“Let’s just say I’m glad you don’t have claws any more.”

Castiel’s naked state obviously hasn’t registered with the Angel who’s peering at his own hands, complete with stubby non lethal looking nails. “No, they made walking on this floor extremely ha - “

Sam sees the very second Castiel realises what’s amiss, and takes a step backwards, just in case the spell didn’t rid the Angel of all feline urges.

Castiel closes his eyes and sighs. “I’m naked, am I not?”

Dean sidles up behind his brother, using Sam as a human shield. “Little bit.”

“Perhaps I should rectify that, then.”

Trying desperately not to stare at Castiel’s unclothed body, Dean pulls something from a nearby chair before stepping forward nervously and handing it to him. “About that, you might need to go shopping.”

Castiel opens his eyes and growls.

There in Dean’s hands are the miniaturised versions of his tie and trench coat, freshly pressed and starched, sitting pristinely on a tiny clothes hanger.

“I hate you. Both of you.”

Snatching the fun sized clothing from Dean’s hand, Castiel turns on his heel and with as much dignity as he can muster, marches butt naked from the room, with the sounds of Sam and Dean’s raucous laughter following behind him.

 

End.


End file.
